


Ithaca Odyssey

by Delongpaw



Category: Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff, Ithaca, M/M, Pining, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-11 10:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13522671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delongpaw/pseuds/Delongpaw
Summary: We find Oliver in upstate NY four and a half years after he left Elio at the train station in B





	1. There’s a heartbreak beat and it feels like love

[There's a heartbreak beat, playing all night long](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXfXTB7UcuU)

There's a heartbreak beat, playing all night long  
Down on my street  
And it feels like love, got the radio on  
And it's all that we need  
There's a heartbreak beat, and it feels like love  
There's a heartbreak beat, and it feels like love  
\- The Psychedelic Furs

Part 1 - There’s a heartbreak beat and it feels like love

I was feeling particularly maudlin, so I drove my car down to Stewart Park to gaze at the grey turbulent waters of Cayuga Lake. It felt like the most depressing place on earth, Ithaca New York in March. I was cold. My heart was empty. I was purposely trying not to feel anything. It wasn’t working. By the way, the irony is not lost on me that I am classics scholar and I live in a town called Ithaca.

My relationship had just gone up in flames. I let it. I just stood there and watched it burn, just like I had been doing for the last four years - in one way or another. He was a graduate student, luckily not in my department, but a student at Cornell all the same. I was reckless this time, going to Common Grounds downtown, not really looking for anything, just wanted to lose myself in the music, drink a little, stave off the loneliness. There was something about him, for lack of a better description, a European sensibility, a grace – I was instantly attracted to him…Once I realized what it was – what I internally call “The Elio factor” I smiled and sort of shook my head. I do it all the time, I find myself drawn to people; men and women who personify some little trait of Elio’s. It could be an arcane fact thrown out in a conversation, the way someone rides his bike, green almond shaped eyes-anything. It was too late, he thought I was calling him over, or flirting or I don’t know. He was self assured, aggressive, and I went home with him. It turned into something, a thing, good, until it wasn’t. Well it’s over, and that’s a dangerous time for me. I start getting nostalgic. I stack up the “what if’s.” I mentally re-write my history with “if onlys.” It’s a futile self-flagellating exercise that I am exceedingly good at. As I am wont to do, I gaze at the icy Cayuga waters and think about my own Homeric Journey.

Leaving Elio - that is the point I always go back to when I do my life revisions, for that is the moment when I sold myself out. Of course I didn’t think so at the time. I left Elio for so many reasons - I bore myself when I run them down- our age difference, all of the experiences Elio hadn’t had yet, his education, the list is long and convincing and so fucking tedious. I have been down this road so many times, I bang the steering wheel out of frustration and so the pain in my hand gives me something to focus on- a pain that is tangible- not the amorphous pain that I carry with me daily. 

When I spoke to Elio just over 4 years ago- telling him of my wedding plans, his reaction was impenetrable – I couldn’t get a read on him- it wasn’t a deep conversation, surface platitudes and polite congratulations. I felt dead inside, and as long as we are being brutally honest here – it was at this moment I had the earth shattering self- reflective thought – what the fuck am I doing? Doubts self planted, watered frequently, and fertilized do one thing: bloom. I ended my engagement and started looking for a position at another University.  
My ex-fiancée is a classics scholar at Columbia, and it was too awkward to remain there. She was devastated as was I. How does one explain that 6 weeks in Italy changes your very soul, that you are not the same person that said goodbye in June? Your DNA has shifted and frankly nothing has come close since.  
I am jolted back to the present day, and shake my head. Pathetic. What’s it going take to move on really for good this time? I am at loss. 

I’m pretty sure I’m bi. I find myself attracted to a wide range of people. Then again, it could be the “Elio Factor.” If I’m not, moving on will be more of a challenge. The logistics in upstate NY are not in my favor. Syracuse has a small gay population, mostly students, Rochester not much better. Ithaca- well it is quite progressive but a small town in many ways, and the Cornell community is pretty insular. New York City is four hours away minimum-too far for a casual thing, eventually I probably will take a sabbatical, and end up in the city but that’s down the road.  
I dated a political science professor at Ithaca College, he was brilliant, but the chemistry waned... it wasn’t sustainable. I’ll own it. He wasn’t who I wanted. This latest breakup has just opened up the dam of regret and regurgitated pain.  
I put the car in gear and go back up the hill toward campus. 

I got a letter from Professor Perlman in January. The professor and I have an on-going dialogue mostly confined to our shared interests, but I could, if I wanted, press for more personal information. I don’t. I always inquire as to Annella’s health, and keep it all very above board.  
He fills me in anyway, always dangling the golden thread; Elio -whether it’s a conscious choice or not. Pro tells me he has completed his undergraduate studies at the Berklee College of music in Boston, (3 hours away!) and is considering his next move. Not surprisingly, Elio has shown tremendous talent composing and is considering a masters degree in that or orchestral conducting. I can picture him in front of an orchestra-his body personifying the music-a kinetic dream. It is almost too much to imagine.  
I dream of Elio often, usually the dreams involve me searching the Perlman’s villa for him, each room as though he has just left. The feeling is that I have just missed him. There are variations on this theme-a bicycle ride where I have lost him, a train ride where I endlessly cross the cars searching for him. Sometimes I have a strong scent memory of him, and his musky almost citrus smell overwhelms me. It happened a week ago, so strong I was very nearly bowled over. I felt his proximity in a way that made me dizzy. I don’t even know what that was about.  
I know this all sounds so pitiable, usually it’s buried and I function well, but the long winter and the demise of my involvement with Daniel has brought my sorrow to the surface. It’s not like don’t have projects to work on, a new book, a journal article for Classical Philology, endless student papers to grade and read and evaluate. I must carry on.


	2. Part 2 Taughannock Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The semester begins -a watershed moment

The heat is stifling; the humidity is off the charts- Ithaca can be brutal in August. Our little college town is crowded with station wagons unloading their precious cargo, friends reuniting, and professors scrambling to get organized for the semester ahead. I am teaching “Identity in the Ancient World” and a senior seminar “The Heroic Vision: Epics of Greece and Rome.” It will be a lot of work but the subject matter dovetails nicely with the book I am working on. These students are so bright, you’d be surprised how much I learn from them, and how they inform my work. Luckily, I have 3 great teaching assistants that are just incredible, one of them, Iris, I may recommend to Professor Perlman.

The tenor of my outlook is brighter than it was in March. That hopefully was a low point that I have emerged from.  
I did manage to get away this summer to visit my parents in Maine. They are holding up well. They have stopped asking about my love life, and refer to me as their confirmed bachelor. I don’t know what they know. They were fond of my fiancée but never expressed dismay or disappointment over the end of the relationship. We are implicitly accepting of each other. 

I joke around with them and call them “L.L. Bean” Jews. (An outdoor store located in Freeport Maine.) The lure of a canoe ride or mountain hike holds more sway with them than worshiping with others in a synagogue, yet they live their lives adhering to a core Jewish belief; Tikkun Olam literally to “heal the world.” My parents see it as their call to social action. It is the driving force behind their environmental activism. I respect them, and they show me the same respect. If they have noticed my existential sadness they have not commented on it, and for that I am grateful. 

Another semester begins. The faces start to all look similar. A few standouts, a few scammers, some who are already complaining about the work load and internally cataloging their excuses. I have become immune to their pretexts. More than once I have heard a student call me a prick when they thought I couldn’t hear them. 

I am wrapping up the introductory lecture in my Heroic Vision class. Students scramble out of their seats, packing up notebooks, grabbing the syllabi stacked on my podium. Something catches my eye at the top of the lecture hall; my heart speeds up before my brain can register what I am seeing. My chest squeezes as I watch Elio descend the center staircase of the sloping classroom. I can barely breathe. He stands a distance away waiting for me to acknowledge him. 

The boy that I hugged goodbye in B is now a man standing in my classroom in Ithaca. I shake my head and extend my arm for a handshake; he approaches me and grabs my hand to pull me in for a hug. “Oliver, Oliver” he says into my neck “I’m so happy to see you.” He pulls away and looks at me. “You look the same! I’m so glad.” And he dives in for another hug. I’m stunned. Have I conjured this phantom? Is this really happening? I tap my foot on the solid ground to confirm I’m not dreaming and Elio tilts his head in confusion. “I’m ah I’m so happy to see you Elio” I stammer out, barely able to catch my breath. My hand searches for the chair that I know must be back here somewhere. “Tell me, what brings you to Ithaca? To Cornell?” He responds with a shake of his head “I thought my father would have told you, Ithaca College offered me a double masters in composing and orchestral conducting with a really generous fellowship. They made me the classic ‘offer I couldn’t refuse’ ” he says with his luminous grin. I find the wayward chair and sit, trying to center myself and regroup. I study him, his heart shaped face and green almond eyes have lost their baby fat. His cheekbones are prominent and his jawline chiseled. His hair is half way down his neck, with errant strands framing his face. It is, as if he has emerged from within himself – a more refined version. Once again I lose my train of thought as I am confronted with his bold unfettered beauty. 

I can barely speak, “that’s wonderful Elio” I managed to say. “Where are you living? Do you have a car?” “I’m on South Hill,” he said “near the college and on the bus route, so I’m okay. 

't

I came up to see you before my classes start. I didn’t want to run into you at some random bar or grocery store.” This gives me pause. What is his intention? Is he just letting me know he is here, so like a kind uncle, I am around if he needs anything? 

Just like four years ago, Elio has knocked me off my center line. No defense to his offense was possible because you never knew what the end game was. And I see it in this moment, what we did in Crema. All the posturing, the unspoken words, the insecurity , the wasted time, when we could have been together, loving each other. 

I have enough self-awareness to know that the combination of the way I look, and the manner in which I present myself can easily be misunderstood as arrogance. That cover had almost obliterated any chance Elio and I had, it was only due to his guileless enthusiasm that we managed to come together at all. I don't know how much time Elio is going to stay here, the next 5 minutes or the next 5 years, but in a split second the watershed moment has presented itself, all of my reticence and mixed messages have led me to this instant. Without scaring him off, I somehow need to let Elio know that this time would be different.


	3. Part 2 Taughannock Falls Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lunch.

“Elio let's get out of here, can I buy you lunch or coffee or something?” I ask, hoping he will let me extend our time together. He nods and waits for me to gather my paperwork and put it in my leather satchel.  
He walks ahead of me out of Goldwin Smith Hall on to the arts quad and I observe how much he had changed. He is taller, he is only a few inches shorter than my 6’5” frame now. He is still slim but no longer seemed uncomfortable with his long arms and legs, he walks with an assuredness and poise that for good reason was lacking in his coltish teenage years. I take a deep breath. The pull of Eros is so strong it threatens all rationality. 

“There’s a place in college town where we can get a sandwich and beer; Rulloff’s. It’s quiet, we can talk.” He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “Talk huh?” 

My go to would be to spout off a defensive comment like ‘”Yeah Elio, that’s what grownups do when they haven’t seen or spoken to each other in 5 years,” but my resolve is to not hide behind the self protective, believe it or not, shy façade I had resorted to when I was around him. It was, I believe, the source of my despair.  
“Yes Elio, I have a lot of catching up to do with you, and I don’t want to miss a thing.” 

He grins an impossibly big grin and bounces up on his feet, harkening back to an over excited Elio that reminded me of our trip to Rome. A twinge of nostalgia washes over me and I quickly push those feelings down and try to stay present. 

We're walking side by side out of the main gates of the campus and he turns to look at me, his eyes searching my face, for what I don’t know. I don't look down, I don't succumb to the strong urge to flip my sunglasses down, I hold his gaze. "Over there," I point to Ruloff’s and try to get the attention off of me. We enter the cool air-conditioned pub and find a small booth in the back. “Well” he sighs as he sits across from me, “I can’t believe I am really here, having a beer with you, it feels like a dream.” “It does” I reply. There was so much I want to ask him, to know, to fill in the blanks, but I didn’t want this to turn into an interrogation. 

I start with what I thought would be a neutral proposition. “You know I have been here for 4 years, I know Ithaca and the surrounding areas pretty well. I would love to show you Buttermilk Falls, Watkins Glen, and take you to a really cool place called The Rongovian Embassy.” Elio gets very quiet. He glances down at his hands and fidgets with obvious discomfort. 

Our waitress chooses now to come over and see what we we are drinking. “Anchor Steam on draft please” I say, and Elio adds, “make that two please.” She moves away to get our beers and I lean into him and say "what’s wrong?" “I don’t know Oliver, I mean, we don’t speak for like 4 and a half years and now you want to be my tour guide and best friend. I just can’t…” he trails off still looking down at his hands. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought that…” 

“I know” he interjects. “It’s just too weird for me. I can’t just dive back into Elio and Oliver. It was so hard for me when you left. I kind of wasn’t the same for a long, long time.” 

I scrub my hand over my face and exhale loudly. “Jesus Elio, that’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen. There was no easy exit from your life; I made the decision to cut it off. I thought that it would sting in the moment, but you’d get over it and go on to have other relationships, and eventually forget about me." 

He looks at me with those green eyes and shakes his head. “But that invalidates everything we had between us. How could you just write it off? Didn’t it mean anything to you?” His eyes are wet and he gets up muttering about going to take a piss. 

Our beers come, and the waitress asks if we’d like anything to eat. At that point, Elio slides back to his seat and says “yes please I’d like a burger and fries” and I order a club sandwich. When she leaves, he utters a soft “sorry” and takes a deep swallow of beer. 

“I don’t know how much you want to get into it here Elio but..” 

“If not now when?” he says, challenging me. And so, I decide in that moment, to rise to his challenge. 

“I remember everything Elio. I remember our first bike ride together, I remember you flirting with me by playing Bach on your guitar, I remember pressing you up against the wall in Rome and devouring you, I remember everything Elio. And it meant everything to me.  
And if you think, that sitting here, in this dark cool bar, in this little town in upstate NY and seeing you is easy Elio, it is not. It is not easy because it forces me to look back and completely second guess the choice I made, what I thought I was doing; letting you live your life. I look at you and I realize that I have never met anyone like you, and I never will again.” 

I stop short of telling him it is my life’s biggest regret. But, because we were always good at reading each other’s minds I think he knows that. 

“But you were engaged, you were going to get married! How can you look me in the eye and say this stuff now?" He leans forward, his body stiff and tense.

“I didn’t though” I say softly, “I called it off.” 

“I know,” he says a bit remorsefully. “Was it awful?”

“Yeah, it was not fun,” I shake my head, “But Elio, you were not the only one hurting you know.“ 

“Did you break the engagement because of me?” He asks puzzled. 

“I think that you were a component of it yes. Crema changed me, you changed me, and your father changed me." I say.

Just then our food comes. My appetite has left but I deconstruct the club sandwich layer by layer. Elio’s appetite however is unaffected by my soul baring confessions, as he consumes his burger with gusto. I steal a French fry from his plate and he bats my hand away. I momentarily flash on our faux wrestling matches that always ended up with us engaged in passionate lovemaking. I pull myself back to the present and watched as he dips his fries in the catsup.

“You are going to make a great conductor one day you know,” I say. He looks up at me “Ah the French fry as a baton…I know exactly how you got to that thought” he says as he waves the fry in the air. “We were always good at that weren’t we? Knowing what each other was thinking,” he says with a smile. 

“We were,” I agree. 

“Can I ask you something though?” Elio says looking at me from under his eyelashes. “ If ending us was what you came to realize as your biggest mistake why didn’t you get in touch with me? Call me? Write me? Why was there radio silence for like 4 years? It doesn’t make sense." 

I had no ready answer for him. A vague defense of wanting him to live his life seemed inappropriate in this moment. I shake my head and said “I don’t know Elio. I fucked up. I really fucked up.” 

He finishes the last of his lunch and my sandwich is a desiccated mess on my plate. “Let me pay for this one Elio, you get the next one”  
I say as I get up to give my credit card to the waitress who's behind the bar. I borrow a pen from the waitress to sign and grab a Ruloff’s card from beside the register. I write my phone number down on the back of card. I hastily shove it in my pocket and turn to Elio “My car is in the faculty lot, let me give you lift home.” He thinks about it for a while, and then says “yeah, cool that would be great actually” and follows me out into the steaming afternoon heat. 

He is living in a big house on the south side of Ithaca. It is a large turn of the century home that has been converted into a multiple unit building. He has the attic garret with a dedicated outside staircase leading to a small one bedroom place. I don't go in, I drop him off in front. 

Shades down, my Oliver defense firmly in place, I am so tempted to just let him go and speed off, putting the onus on him to either continue this or end it now before we hurt each other further. I dont'. I lift my glasses. I hand him the Ruloff’s card with my number, and say “I hope we can hang out again soon. Will you call me?” he turns away, and gets out of the car, this time, he is the one to say “later.”


	4. Part 2: Taughannock Falls Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The waiting game

It has been 2 weeks. 2 fucking weeks of me being inside my head wondering if Elio was going to get in touch. I come home to a blinking light on the answering machine, heart pounding and what I hear is my Mom ‘checking in’ and the department secretary asking if I had filled out some paperwork she gave me.

I’m so frustrated, I go outside and sit on the porch of my little bungalow to smoke. The oppressive heat of August has departed, leaving us with beautiful crisp September weather. The foliage is just as beautiful as New England, hues of gold and red and orange dot the hills. 

I spot my neighbor Bill and his girlfriend who I think is named Stacy, I’m not sure, I ‘ve only met her once. I wave and they walk over. Bill is a staff researcher at Cornell and a pleasant guy, Stacy I don’t know, but I do know she goes to Ithaca College the same school as Elio. 

“Hi Guys” I say, “How’s everything?” I am trying to be the friendly neighborhood college professor. 

“Hey Oliver, you remember Stacy my girlfriend right?” Bill says. I shake my head and say “Yes, Hi, nice to see you again. She nods and smiles. 

“Hey, Stacy -I have a question – Where do the IC kids hang out? I’m just curious…I mean at night and stuff, you know, what bars do they go to?”

She purses her lips and thinks about it. “Well the jocks go to the Haunt or the Dugout, the princesses go to Ragmanns, the preppies go to Simeons, the gay kids and the drama students go to Common Grounds, and the cool people go to the Pine Tavern, why?” She asks laughing, “Are you bored with the bars up here in College Town? Gonna hit downtown?” “Nah” I say. “I was just interested, it seems very specific to certain groups of people though.” “Well” she says, “this is just my take, of course there is cross over.” We chit chat for a while and they continue their evening walk. 

I start plotting, should I go check out Common Grounds, maybe the Wine Bar on Cayuga street? Would it be weird for me just to show up?  
Ack, desperation is such an ugly look on me.  
Was I really considering skulking around downtown Ithaca looking for Elio? No, there was no way I could do that. And of course he didn’t fit into any of Stacy’s categories. I guess I should have asked her where gorgeous Italian post graduate musical prodigies hang out. 

And when I try to picture where he’d be, all I can see is a lone figure playing the piano in one of many practice rooms they probably have at the music school. 

This waiting for him to get in touch is brutal, knowing he is here in the same town and doesn't want to see me; it hurts in a profound way. 

I don't hear from him until the middle of October. It is already below freezing at night, days dipping into the low 50’s, days getting shorter, winter just around the corner. 

It's a Friday night, I had begged off early from a faculty cocktail reception. The phone is ringing when I get home and step into the living room. I manage to pick up before the answering machine did.

“Hello” , expecting to hear a warm hello from my mother. “Hey Oliver, it’s Elio, Hi!” There is a slight tremble in his voice, he sounds nervous. “Hi Elio, is everything okay? Are you okay?” “Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m sorry I haven’t called, I just needed some time. You know, time to get settled, time to think about everything.” 

I take a deep breath and say “yes, uh huh. I kind of figured, how is school? How are your classes?” “Oh everything is really good, I really like some of my teachers and I really enjoying teaching- more than I thought I would. The music school is sort of isolated from the rest of the campus, so we sort of have our own community. I like it a lot.”

“I’m glad, I’m glad you’re happy, and I’m really glad you called me.“ 

“Yeah, I wanted to take you up on your offer of a hike or something, I’ve been spending way too many hours indoors practicing, are you up for it?” he asked. 

Is there such a thing as a mental fist pump? 

“Yes Elio. Lets go to Taughannock Falls, it’s beautiful, you’ll love it. When do you want to go? Tomorrow? Sunday?" I try to keep the elation out of my voice but I am failing miserably. 

“Lets go tomorrow, he says, there’s a concert thing I have to do on Sunday.“

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 11 if that’s ok” 

“OK cool see you then Oliver.”

I am over the moon.


	5. Part Two: Taughannock falls Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hike, some cream cheese, and a level playing field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some references I will imbed in the story. All of the places are real, or at least were in 1989 when the story is set. The Falls hopefully forever.

I stop at Collegetown bagels and pick up coffee and the best bagels west of New York City. I am trying to temper my enthusiasm and not frighten Elio away for another goddamn 6 weeks. He is perfectly capable of letting me know what he wants; he certainly did when he was 17. I just have to find the right mix of playing it cool and not appearing like an arrogant dick. It’s so hard for me; I have hid behind the nonchalant friendly observer for as long as I can remember. I am at a loss here, but Elio tends to do that to me. I pull up in front of his house and I see him ambling down the outside staircase. He waves and jogs over to the car.  
“Hi Oliver!” he opens the door and slides into the front seat. “I am really excited about seeing the falls, hey did you know they are the tallest waterfalls in New York State, and were formed by glaciers over 75,000 years ago?”

There’s the Elio I remember-throwing up random facts to be digested and admired. God I adore him. 

“Really? Cool” I said, grinning as I pulled away from the curb. “I got you some coffee and an excellent Ithaca bagel if you’re hungry.” He rummages through the paper bag and pulls out the sesame bagel with the fresh cream cheese oozing out of the sides. “Oh my god, this looks amazing, thanks Oliver.” 

We head out to the state park on Route 89. He decides to wait on the bagel as its too messy in the car, and he is busy looking out the window. It’s not Lake Garda, but the north end of Lake Cayuga is breathtaking. I entertain him with the tale of the mysterious white deer that are supposed to have escaped from the nuclear facility further up the lake and share my experience with the “ice wine” of the region. He would hate it, but the locals are very proud of it. It’s awful. 

We park and look over the trails, the entire hike is over 7 miles long which is a bit much, but we decide to do the south rim trail.  
The sun is out, and although the peak foliage has passed, it is still ablaze with color. Before we start, we sit at one of the picnic benches by the lake and eat our bagels. We don’t say much, but as I finish, Elio leans in and scrapes a bit of cream cheese off of the side of my mouth and then licks his finger while looking at me. It’s enough to wreck me. I am so trying to be cool and then he does that. I smile, shake my head and what comes back to me is that moment when Elio stared at me on Monet’s Berm. I realized then, what game we both had been playing, and the ball was in my court. That is when I said “You’re making things very difficult for me.” And once again, the same is true. I don’t say it this time.  
We start up the trail, walking, looking, occasionally our hands brushing together. The generous birdsong and rushing of the falls creates a lush soundtrack. It is blissful. I wonder if Elio is feeling it too. We come upon the vista point that lets us see the waterfall in all of its’ glory; it is truly an astonishing site. 

 

Breathtaking and Magical. I look over at Elio, who is standing against me, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes dancing over the view, he turns to me and tucks his head under my chin. “Thank you Oliver, thank you for this, and for giving me time.” I hug him and manage to mutter “whatever you need Elio, whatever you need.“ We stand like that for a few minutes looking at the splendor and holding each other. The voices of other hikers reach us at the vista point and we pull away. I miss his warmth immediately and internally curse the interloper’s audacity to interrupt us.  
We circle back and decide to take the North rim trail back to the car. It’s another 2 miles so we are pretty beat upon our return. 

“I’ll take you to the Rongovian Embassy another time, it’s a pretty cool place though. They have it set up like an Embassy to a mythical country; Rongovia. I think they even have fake passport stamps.“  
“Is it a bar, An amusement park? What is it?" Elio asks. "Oh it’s a bar, with live music and very inventive drinks, my favorite trio is the sick bastard, the dying bastard, and the dead bastard, it’s not for the alcohol intolerant.”

“Sounds fun, we’ll have to go one day,” Elio says as we get in the car, “Ithaca has an amazing live music scene actually, reggae, blues, folk, and Cornell gets all the major Rock and Roll Touring shows, I think I could really get into living here, Oh, and speaking of music do you want to see me play tomorrow?  
He still speaks so rapidly, a habit left over from his childhood. Did he just ask me if I wanted to hear him play tomorrow?  
“Fuck yeah Elio I want to hear you play tomorrow.” He grins at me and playfully punches my shoulder.  
“What’s the program?” I ask, not that it matters. It could be 2 hours of atonal bullshit and I would be right there.  
“A real crowd pleaser, I’m doing three Liszt pieces: Hungarian Rhapsody No 2, Liebestraume No. 3, and Un Sospiro. It’s a faculty showcase thing. Nothing formal. 

“Oh. ‘Dream of Love’ and ‘A Sigh,’ you are such a romantic! I chide him.” Again he punches my arm.  
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world” I say “what time?  
“Concert starts a 7. Up on campus at the Hockett Family Recital Hall. They promote it as ‘an after dinner mint’ they even use the cheesy line ‘As with all things of this nature, it will leave you wanting much, much more.’” 

[After Dinner Mint](https://www.ithaca.edu/music/ensembles/faculty-showcase/%0A%20)

 

Cheesy, but true I think. I pull up to Elio’s house, and just like that, our day together has ended. But knowing I am going to see him tomorrow takes the edge off a bit. He turns to me and without saying anything; he gently runs his hand along the side of my face and pulls me in for a kiss. He opens his lips to deepen it and presses the back of my head firmly to his mouth. There is no mistaking his intention and my heart soars. He pulls away and I chase his mouth to prolong the connection but he is already moving to get out of the car. I have to sit and catch my breath for a second. I look up and he is standing by the driver’s side window motioning for me to roll it down. He sticks his head in and briefly pecks me on the lips.  
“Thanks Oliver” He turns and walks away. What a confounding tease he is, and yet I see how his actions even the playing field, making me feel a bit like he must have felt in Crema 5 years ago. I am sure it is not a conscious choice but if things are comparable now, maybe we can start over as equals.


	6. And the stars make love to the universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a snippet of a dream

I dream of Elio again.   
As I walk through the villa, I catch sight of him this time, standing on the balcony in the moonlight.   
There is a glowing golden rope at his feet. I know instinctually that this rope is desire, waiting, coiled.   
I move through his room, I want. That’s all I know in the dream, is that I want.   
He looks up at me from lowered eyes and reaches out to me. 

I awaken with a start. I’m hard. I take a deep breath and propel myself out of bed straight into the shower. I come hard thinking about his lips, his cock, his long lean body pressing against mine, shouting his name into the tile.


	7. Strange Fits of Passion I have known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A concert. Some snogging.

I spend the day grading papers, prepping my lecture for tomorrow and thinking about yesterday.

I glance at my watch all too often, showering and leaving my 3 week beard growth in place. I throw on some khakis, a button down shirt and my “professor jacket” leather elbow patches and all. 

Of course I am early to campus. I drive around and find the parking for the music school. I am not embarrassingly early, as others arrive simultaneously. I queue up to enter and I over hear two young girls talking about Elio, I assume.  
“Yes, he playing all Liszt tonight, God- he’s so good and so gorgeous.” “I know, right?” The other girl chimes in. “I wonder if he’s single, is he with anyone?” she asks her friend. 

A wave of jealousy rises up in me the likes of which I have never felt. Now I am fond of saying “I know myself.” I say it a lot, but this uncontrollable possessiveness has never, in 29 years, shown its’ foul face like this. I step out of line and light a cigarette to tamp down some of the feelings. It is a complete overreaction. My fervor when it comes to him, is out of proportion. I better get a fucking grip. 

I enter and look for a seat far away from the girls. It’s an intimate space, seating about 250 people. I sit halfway back with a good view of the piano bench. A few minutes later, Elio enters to polite applause. With no introduction, he sits at the piano and starts to play. 

He is a wonder. No sheet music, just utter joy at what he is playing. Technically, I am sure he is brilliant, but there is something else, a finesse, and an intensity that is spellbinding. I can’t take my eyes off of him. He is naturally charismatic, but behind the piano the magnetism is off the charts. I have never seen him in performance mode and I am captivated. The thunderous applause at the end of the program tells me the audience is equally awestruck. 

I sit in the auditorium wondering if I should go back stage, if there is even a backstage, and I see Elio’s head pop around the side door. He spots me and bounds up the aisle to give me a hug. “I’m so glad you came Oliver! It means so much to me. Thank you” he says with a glowing smile.  
“Elio, you were amazing, it was a really impressive concert, thank you for inviting me.”  
He smiles and nods. “Would you like see the school?” he asks, and as he sidles up to me he whispers in my ear “You look incredible tonight Oliver.” 

He takes my hand and pulls me up. I observe his delight showing me the classrooms, the practice and rehearsal spaces, and the larger concert hall. It is so evident how happy Elio is to be here.

“Do you have to stay or do you want to go out somewhere or…?” I trail off, still wary of pushing too hard too quickly.  
“Well I have a lesson kind of early tomorrow, and, but…” Elio verbally stumbles a bit and I frown at him and say “What Elio, what is it?”  
He blushes, and says softly “Well you look so good, and I kind of want to just kiss you for while.“  
Jesus. “Your place- in the car- now.” I playfully push him down the hallway. “Wait, wait, I have to get my jacket,” as he steers us to the classroom where his backpack and jacket lay. 

I am positively giddy. And giddy is not something I have felt in a long, long time. 

We go out to my car, and Elio peers around at the empty parking lot, checking I’m sure, to see if anyone can see us. As I go to open his side, he presses me against the door. He leans against me, throwing his arms around my neck. His warm mouth finds mine and kisses me tenderly. “God Oliver, I can’t stop thinking about you, “ he says. I momentarily close my eyes and mutter “me too Elio.”  
We get in the car and I find my way down to his apartment on Prospect Street. 

We climb up the long staircase and enter his attic room. It’s pretty sparse, there’s a small couch and coffee table, a tv, a portable keyboard and an easy chair that looks like it has been here since the 50’s. By the kitchen area I see a table with two chairs. There is a door by the kitchen that I assume leads to the bedroom. I ask if I can use the bathroom and he points me to the bedroom, “through there, you’ll see it,“ he laughs. “It’s a mess.“

It is a mess, shit everywhere, books, sheet music, cassette tapes, there is not a single square of the floor showing through. I see his double mattress on the floor, a tangle of sheets and blankets strewn mostly off the bed. I briefly wonder if anyone else has shared this bed with him. I manage to stop myself from going there. I use the bathroom, stealing some of his toothpaste in an effort to sweeten my breath. 

My heart rate starts to accelerate as I walk into the living area and see Elio standing by the couch. I’m afraid I can’t hold back any longer as I gather him in my arms and kiss him with fervor. I want to taste him, to devour him, and like a thirsty man in an oasis I am drinking my fill. He breaks away panting in my mouth. “Fuck Oliver, Jesus.” These are not tender soft kisses, these are kisses filled with longing and need. He cards his hands through my hair and pulls me in with equal zeal, He pulls at my jacket to remove it, and guides us both down to the couch. 

“You okay?” I ask, “Me okay” he responds, smiling, remembering. 

I gently put my hands on either side of his face and kiss his mouth, his neck, his cheek, his forehead. I run my nose along his collar, savoring his scent. I feel him swoon a bit, I too feel drunk, intoxicated with the feel of his skin and the taste of his mouth. I lose track of time, and Elio pulls me out of my reverie. “Oliver, I don’t want this to end, really I don’t, but it’s midnight. I have to be up at campus at 8:30 tomorrow. I’m so sorry. “ 

So much for being the grownup, I stand up and try to minimize the obvious tent in my pants. But who are we kidding? Elio’s in just as bad shape as I am. Obviously, he’s not ready to have me spend the night, and frankly, I’d rather have him in my bed. 

“Good Night Elio, sweet dreams my beautiful boy,” I whisper in his ear as I hug him goodbye.


	8. Poker Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Busted chops.

Monday evening, after two lectures, and an afternoon of “office hours” I return home to a blinking light on the answering machine. I hit play and all I hear is “ So beard burn is a real thing.” I crack up. I wish he was complaining about beard burn on his inner thighs but I am guessing there will be time for that too. 

Now, the tricky dance of who initiates the next step. Maybe the beard burn call was the next step. Oh. 

What am I supposed to be doing? I can feel my brain go into overdrive. 

I won’t do it. I will call Elio when I want to talk to him, or I want to take him somewhere, or when the urge to see him is overwhelming.  
I WILL NOT OVERTHINK THIS.

 

My Tuesday night poker game immediately picks up on my changed vibe. It’s instant. Now granted, one guy is a Psychiatrist, one is Professor in the Architecture school, one is a Veterinarian, and one is the best Volvo mechanic in upstate New York. All of them in their own way are highly intuitive. The other common trait they share? They love to give me shit. 

I walk into Bruce’s (the shrink) amazing house in Cayuga Heights and literally 5 minutes after I sit down, they start in on me. 

Tim (the mechanic) says “What the fuck Oliver?” You look like the cat who swallowed a canary.” 

“What?” I say “I am just thinking about how I am gonna clean you guys out tonight. I hope you’re ready to pay up.”  
Then Bruce says “You do that every week Oliver, something’s up. You keep smiling to yourself and your eyes are sort of crunched up like you’re happy or something.”

“Spill” says Drew the architecture professor. “We’ll wait.” 

“Nothing guys, I got nothing, I’m still the same old grumpy pissed off Oliver.” I say, giving them what Annella used to call my “la muvi star” smile: my biggest blunder. 

“Holy shit, what the fuck was that?” Tim says “You just showed your pearly whites in a full cheek to cheek dare I say grin? WHAT THE FUCK!” 

Peter the vet, always the voice of reason says “back off guys, I mean he’ll tell us when he’s ready, or when we refuse to pay up at the end of the night, whichever comes first.“ 

I just shake my head and ask if Drew is ready to deal. All night the jabs come with regularity. 

This has been an ongoing game for three years, and it hits me that I have been grumpy, pissed off Oliver for the entire time. No wonder they are picking up on it, didn’t I just feel giddy less than 72 hours ago?

My usual grim poker face has also deserted me, but in fact, that is working in my favor, as I have total shit cards, but I can’t keep the smile from my face and they all fold quickly, in total terror that I am going to lay down a royal flush. I am making a killing. This is fun. 

At the end of the night, Bruce comes over to me and says, “all kidding aside Oliver, I’m really glad something is making you so happy.” I give him a one arm friendly hug and say “thanks brother.” 

As I drive home, I find it both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure that connecting with someone can so profoundly alter the way you interact with the world. I think that I was well on the way to becoming emotionally bankrupt. Pro hinted at this in his letters to me. Even though we spoke of our work, he often paternally reminded me to not neglect joy, I think he referred to it as my inner goodness or something. I wonder again, if he had a hand in getting Elio to come to Ithaca. 

I will contact Elio tomorrow and find out when I can see him again.  
I let over 4 years go by, now 4 days seems like an eternity.


	9. The Tang of Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week progresses.

I wake up with a start. Shit. I don’t have Elio’s phone number. I have an 11 am lecture. I’ll shower and go leave a note under his door. How could I not get his number? I kick myself mentally, goddamn for a guy with a doctorate you sure are an idiot Oliver. I hastily compose a note, much kinder than the one I left him all those summers ago.  
Can you have dinner Friday night? My house. 701 Mitchell Street. I don’t have your phone #!  
Call me!  
I hop in my car, and drive over to his house. This is somewhat embarrassing. I creep up the outside staircase to his apartment. I look down at the rickety set of steps and realize what a disaster this will be in the winter, an icy, slippery deathtrap. I am now officially concerned.  
I place the note under his door and creep back to my car. 

Today, I feel strangely out of sorts, whereas Monday and Tuesday I was teetering on the edge of bliss, today I am feeling intense longing combined with trepidation. And in a way I know what this is. I haven’t felt anything for so long…is numb a feeling? No it’s the absence of feeling. My jumble of genuine emotions just feels so potent. The trepidation is pure unadulterated fear…that much I know, the unbearable thought that Elio will not want to be with me. The longing is simple: I had a taste and I want more. It feels like a physical ache in my chest. I acutely remember being in Binario, getting in the train and watching Elio as he stood on the Stazione platform. This ache is a small echo of that ache. I vow to not make the same mistake twice. 

I go give my lecture, try to concentrate on writing, and stay busy in order not to obsess. I am minimally successful. I leave school around 4:30 pm, decide to stop at home before I either go out for a quick dinner or head down to route 13 to go grocery shopping. As I pull into the driveway, I spot Elio sitting on my front stoop. I could not be more surprised. He jumps up and runs over and waits for me to get out of my car. I am instantly surrounded by a warm enveloping hug. “I can’t believe you didn’t knock this morning, you drove all the way over to shove a note under my door? Who does that?” Elio says grinning at me. 

“I didn’t want to wake you goose” using an endearment that just slips out of my mouth. He smiles.  
“Thanks for your address though. It turns out there is this little path over a gorge that leads straight from my house to your house. I didn’t even know it existed,” he says, bright eyes shining. 

“How convenient” I say, leaning down to kiss him. It’s quick but enough to subdue the tang of longing that I have been walking around with today. “C’mon in, I’ll show you around.  
I bought this place about two years ago, there’s stuff I want to do to it, but I haven’t been motivated. 

“When was it built? ”He asks.  
“1923, I think it was a kit house.”  
“A kit house? What’s a kit house?”.  
“Well, there were a bunch of companies including Sears that sold house plans and all the parts you needed to build the house, lumber, doors, lighting fixtures, toilets, everything. Someone would buy the land and then hire a local contractor to put the house together according to the plans. The company would ship all the materials on the train . The funny thing is, I have seen this exact house in a few places in Ithaca, but also in Ohio, Maine, and outside of Philly.  
I haven’t researched what the model name was or anything but it is a very common floor plan. Here come inside.”  
I open the door for him, and he touches the heavy oak. “Wow, I mean is this original? Did they ship this on the train?” He asks.  
“Yup. A previous owner updated the kitchen and bathrooms but otherwise, it is all the original stuff.”

To the left is my study, where I write.” It’s a small cozy room filled floor to ceiling with books. An oak desk and a big leather club chair make this my favorite room in the house.  
I show him the open living room, a small dining room and a farmhouse kitchen. A butcher block counter with two stools faces the deep untended back yard. “This is where I eat most of my meals.”

Elio looks around and smiles. “It’s really cozy, I like it a lot.”  
“Good I’m glad Elio, that makes me happy. There’s a small bathroom over here by the back door, and a mud room.“

“A mud room?” He tilts his head. 

“Yes, I respond, it might be unique to American homes, sort of an unheated entryway to leave your boots, umbrella, raincoat so you don’t drag water and snow into the house. 

“Ah smart” he says. 

“Can I see upstairs? He asks tentatively. 

“Of course follow me” 

There is a front bedroom that has the dormer windows visible from the street and a master bedroom that looks out on the backyard. A fairly modern bathroom sits at the end of the hall. 

“Oh this is really nice Oliver. I can see why you bought it.” 

“Thanks Elio. I am so glad you came by and surprised me.” He stands by my bed and strokes the down comforter.  
I look over at him and he looks momentarily embarrassed.  
“What?” I say. 

“Well I felt really bad about Sunday night. I hate that I had to cut it short. I feel like the world’s biggest cock tease.“ 

“Oh, did you come over to make up for it?” I joke with him.  
“Sort of” he looks at me and licks his lips.

Ok, that went straight to my groin.

“Come here” I kiss him tenderly and say “Elio you are always welcome.”  
He put his arms around me and kisses me deeply, his fingers undoing my belt buckle. His hand palms me over my boxer shorts and I am instantly hard. 

“God, do you see what you do to me” I mutter under my breath. He tugs down my jeans and my underwear and before I know it, his mouth is on me.  
“Oh Fuck Elio.” I can't control the stream of curses coming out of my mouth. The urge to close my eyes, and lose myself in the sensation, is at war with the desire to watch Elio pleasure me. Close to my climax I reach down to squeeze his shoulder and warn him, but he finishes me off in his mouth. I sink to my knees and kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue. 

I return the favor with less grace than Elio, but with just as much enthusiasm.  
His body is more substantial now, with defined muscles and more solidity. He doesn't feel as fragile or as unsure. This sexual confidence is intoxicating; I know I will never get enough. 

We hoist ourselves off the floor and curl into each other on the bed.  
Post orgasmic bliss aside I know we have to talk, find out what we want, set a course. I hope he knows, I most certainly do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have in mind what Oliver and Elio's homes look like.  
> Oliver 701 Mitchell Street (zip code 14850)  
> Elio  
> 205 prospect street  
> A peek at google maps street view will show you.  
> And if you click on directions from one address to another and the walking path you will see the amazing footpath that crosses the gorge.  
> Thanks for going on this little journey with me.  
> I love hearing from you, it fuels their fire.


	10. Extra cheese on that Pizza, please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gazing into the fireplace with a different outcome.

I doze off on my bed with Elio wrapped up in my arms. We both stir and I glance over at the clock on my bedside table. It is 7:30 pm. “Elio, sweet love, can I order some pizza? I’m starving.” He leans over and kisses me. 

“I’ll take that as a yes. Napoli’s: it’s not as good as anything you have in Italy but for Ithaca it’s respectable.“ 

“Sounds good” Elio says, his eyes droopy, his body languid. I gaze at him, he is absolutely irresistible, I want to launch myself on top of him covering every square inch of him. I hold back and call the pizza place. “It will be here in 45 minutes, c’mon downstairs and lets get a beer. I’ll make a fire. 

“I’ll be right down, just give me a minute.” I pull two beers from the fridge and start to build a fire in the living room fireplace. Elio plops down in the big overstuffed sofa and grabs his beer from the coffee table. “This is really nice Oliver. Thank you, ” he says. 

I am still squatting down by the hearth, my mouth is a bit dry, my heart hammering away. 

“Elio, I don’t ever really want to be away from you again.“ 

There. God. I said it. Said what I really feel. Pro would be so proud of me. I’m proud of me.  
Wait. Elio hasn’t said anything. Oh my God. There’s silence.  
I start to think of something to say, wondering how I am going to get out of this gracefully with any shred of my dignity intact. 

I watch as Elio leaves the sofa and comes and curls into me in front of the fire. He lays his head on my shoulder, pressing his lips into my neck. 

“Oliver, I have never stopped loving you, even for one moment. If you want to be with me, I am yours, for as long as you’ll have me."

Tears spring to my eyes unbidden, joy coursing through my bloodstream like a honeyed elixir. My heart is soaring. 

Truly, this is the definition of rapture, to love and be loved equally in return. I kiss Elio unreservedly, the golden thread, now a rope, binding us together. 

I don’t want the pizza delivery man to find us “en flagrante delicto,”  
so I hold back on doing what I really want to do with Elio in this moment, and instead I hold him and stroke his hair, looking at his beautiful face and sending silent prayers of gratitude to the gods. 

The door bell rings and our food is here. Between pulls of cheese and bites of crust, my smile keeps escaping. I can’t help it. Elio mirrors back to me what I am feeling, his eyes forced up into crescents by his laughing mouth. I will remember this moment forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “en flagrante delicto,” - a loose Latin translation "caught in the act."  
> We are gonna give these two a few more chapters to figure this whole thing out. Thank you for reading. I was over the moon to see that one of my favorite authors in the fandom gave me "Kudos." Eva Marlowe who's stories set the bar so high.  
> Your comments thrill me.


	11. The Finer Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While there is time  
> Let's go out and feel everything  
> If you hold me  
> I will let you into my dreams
> 
> For time is a river rolling into nowhere  
> We must live while we can  
> And we'll drink our cup of laughter
> 
> The finer things keep shining through  
> The way my soul gets lost in you  
> The finer things I feel in me  
> The golden dance life could be  
> -Steve Winwood "The Finer Things"
> 
>  
> 
> [Finer Things](www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gaT6HtLGlUl)
> 
>  
> 
> Steve is so hot in this video in an 80's kinda way.

Elio and I leave our Pizza bones in the living room, empty beer bottles scattered about. We race upstairs. All the hesitancy is gone replaced with a heady mix of lust, passion and love. 

He rolls on to my bed and pulls me down on top of him. 

“Goddam Oliver, I want you so badly, Please, I need you, please.”

He is pulling off my shirt, kissing each inch of skin as it is revealed. I shimmy out of my pants and start to unbutton his jeans, he lifts off his shirt and finally it is just us, flesh against flesh, aroused and hard.

I ask him what he wants, and he tells me he wants me, all of me, inside of him.  
To give him what he wants in this minute, and always, is what I want. 

Lube and condoms in the night table drawer, I spend time making sure this will be pleasurable for him.  
I make love with Elio, buried deep inside of him, loving him, joined. It is sublime. I stroke him and find a rhythm that soon has him gasping my name. He comes, coating my stomach and clenches around me. The added pressure puts me right over the edge, and his whispered declaration of “God, I fucking love you Oliver” sweetens the release. 

As we separate, I reach over to him and frame his beautiful face in my hands, looking at his eyes, I rub my thumb across his lower lip, “Elio, you are my love.” 

The toll of holding back all of my desire, and love and adoration of Elio has exhausted me. I was so guarded and wary of frightening him away. 

I have only showed him a small sliver of how I really feel. 

He slides off the bed and returns with a cloth, He cleans me off, kissing me, raking his fingers through my damp chest hair and covering me with the length of his body.

I am Odysseus, who has returned home to his love, his journey complete. I am spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your response to this story has made my heart glad. Thank you for reading and thank you for all of the supportive comments. I think there are two chapters left.


	12. I Melt with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sense memory and that damn staircase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this just for fun...[I melt with you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LuN6gs0AJls)

Watching the morning light caressing Elio’s face is possibly the best way to wake up ever. I nestle into his chest, breathing in his citrusy smell. He stirs and strokes my hair. We make sweet lazy morning love, less frenzied than last night, but still passionate.

I glance at the clock, the temporal world seems so removed. “I have a faculty meeting at 3pm. Do you have to be anywhere?” I ask Elio, brushing his curls away from his face.  
“Piano Lesson at 2:30, I can barely think though” he smiles. 

We stay in our bed bubble until the need for coffee forces me to pad downstairs to make it. I bring up toast, jam and some good Italian roast to Elio, and we sit with our backs on the headboard sipping from oversized mugs. 

“You know when I came up to Ithaca in March to check out the college, I never dared to picture myself in your bed Oliver.” He rests his head on my shoulder.  
“You were here in March? When exactly?” I ask.  
“Um, March 3rd and 4th, the first weekend of the month I think.” I even came up to college town to look at Cornell. Why do you ask? 

Do I tell him I was practically bowled over with the strong sense of his presence? It was the tipping point of my late winter depression. As if I needed it, the transcendent bond I feel with him is confirmed.  
“I had the feeling you were close, in early March, I can’t really explain it. It’s like a sense memory but in present time, it’s like your scent was near. Do I sound insane?

“No, I kept thinking I was going to bump into you around the corner. I felt you too. I was terrified. I was afraid you’d think I was stalking you or something.”

I look over at him and smile, stroking the side of his face. 

“You know, my dad helped me research graduate programs, I was actually considering USC and Julliard, but he encouraged me to come up here and check out Ithaca College. Of course he let me make my own decision, but he wanted me to look at all the options.” 

“We should call them at some point, you know…let them know we are together.” I say.  
That statement makes my heart pound. It obviously does something to Elio too, as he crawls on top of me and kisses me fervently. I guess it’s time for round three. 

*******************

We are in the car, I am dropping Elio off before I have to head back up to school.

“So about this piano lesson, are you giving or receiving?” Elio smirks, and I push his shoulder. “Dirty boy.” 

“I’m teaching.” He says. “I don’t take regular lessons right now, but I do get tutoring if I am having trouble with a particular piece.” 

We pull up along side his house and I look up at that metal staircase that I abhor.  
“I hate that staircase. It is a broken leg waiting to happen.”  
Elio shrugs. “Yeah, I didn’t think about the ice and snow when I rented the place in August.“

I speak without censoring myself: “I think we should do something about it.”  
“What, like get a sledge hammer and take it down? The landlord might have a problem with that.” Elio says.

“No, like move in with me, and break your lease.”

He turns to face me, “Really?”  
“Yes”  
“Oh, wow, Oliver… I mean, I don’t have a car, I don’t have a license even, um god…I”  
I shut him up with a kiss.  
“I have to get up to school now, and so do you, just think about it. If it’s too soon, I understand.  
I just don’t want to waste any more time not being with you.”

“Ok I’ll think about it. Hey Oliver. I’m really happy, and (he whispers this part) I love you.”

I could not tell you what was discussed in the faculty meeting if you paid me. 

 

All I can think about is the possibility of having Elio live with me. I am picturing various scenarios that all start with me opening the front door and having him there. 

After my meeting, I return home and start to pick up the leftover pizza, empty beer cans, and other mess we left in the living room last night.  
The phone rings. I pick up and hear Elio say “277-4850. That’s my number. You never got it.“  
I laugh. “Wait, let me grab a piece of paper, I just want to write it down. Thank you.“ I say.  
“I really don’t want to have sneak anymore notes under your door. That fucking staircase….” 

“I know, I know, you are relentless Oliver, don’t worry I’m thinking about it,” he says with a slight bit of attitude. 

“Will you at least spend the weekend with me here?” I ask, “I haven’t gotten enough of you.”

“Yes of course. I’ll be over in an hour.”


	13. You Overwhelm Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver doesn't like Elio's attitude. Or maybe he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some 80's sex deserves some Sexy 80's Music
> 
> You overwhelm me,  
> When you move your body next to mine  
> Won't you tell me  
> How you always know what's on my mind  
> It's a fever you know how to soothe  
> And a calm contentment  
> Only you can get to
> 
> You overwhelm me  
> Oh babe I think you look so fine  
> I may be turned around  
> You'll show me the way  
> I may be tired of trying  
> You'll show me the light of day  
> My imagination is fired  
> I had only dreamt love could be so inspired
> 
> You overwhelm me, baby  
> You fill my soul with desire  
> Only fools aren't afraid to be burned by fire  
> You overwhelm me,  
> When you move your body next to mine  
> Won't you tell me  
> Oh babe I think you look so fine
> 
> -Robert Palmer 
> 
>  
> 
> [You Overwhelm me](www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMKmPKYBMns)

This time I am waiting for him when he appears at my door. I’m feeling a little bossy. It must be left over from the ‘tude he gave me on the phone. Just as he is about to knock, I open the door. “Leave your boots in the hall Elio” I bark out, without so much as a hello.  
I wait for him to toe off the black hiking boots, and I grab him and press him up against the wall at the foot of the staircase. His eyes are wide, so turned on. I stand in between his legs and divest him of his down jacket and scarf, dropping them to the floor. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, I grab the side of his face and cradle his head, opening his lips with my insistent tongue. I feel him moan into my mouth, a shudder passes through him. I palm his tight little ass and pull him toward me, he is rock hard through his jeans. I intentionally rub against him, a tortuous friction that draws out more obscene noises from Elio. He doesn’t hold back as his hips start thrusting against my groin. 

“I am not going to dry hump you in the hallway Elio, if you want to fuck me, take me to bed,”  
I growl at him.  
He pulls away from the wall grabbing my hand and practically runs up to the bedroom. He can’t pull his clothes off fast enough. I am holding back, trying to extend this torture just a bit longer. 

He takes over, pulling my sweater over my head, and then tears my pants off. He is worked up, mouth everywhere, hands kneading, caressing, he tongues my nipples, pulling and sucking each one in turn. 

I murmur into his hair, “so good, god, oh god.” He wends his way down my body, leaving love bites, and licks, I am ablaze with desire.

The lube is still on the table from our morning lovemaking and he deftly grabs it and coats his fingers, but not before he preps me with his tongue. I let a deep groan escape, all inhibition vanquished in tactile ecstasy. 

He uses those beautiful piano playing fingers, working me, making me ready for him.

And I am. He positions me so my legs are around his waist and he is on his knees, my ass resting close to the juncture of his thighs and his torso. Clearly my love has been around the block since our summer together. I can’t think about that now, as I hear him tear the condom wrapper. 

I pepper his neck with wet kisses, as he enters me. I can only think how he is making me feel in this precise moment; filled and loved.  
He gently moves his hips but I sense he is holding back. I want the full ride. “Fuck me Elio, goddam it, Fuck me.” 

This must unleash in him some permission he needs, and he drives into me with resolve. I push back with equal measure. My cock is getting a persistent silky buffing from the movement of our chest and hips, and I am barely cognizant of the fact that I am now shouting, “Oh Fuck Elio, Oh God” as the come lands on my chest, and my neck. He is a man possessed, edging closer to his climax, grazing my prostate, which at this point is almost too much to bear. He is like a young lion, stretching above me, roaring, and then collapsing, enfolding me. 

We lay there. Consumed. Utterly played out. On my side, I rub my nose in his spine, licking the sweat, kissing his vertebrae, smelling his unique lemony scent. I feel compelled to give him this caveat: “Please Elio do not expect me to have sex with you 4 times in a 24 hour period again. This was a one time only special.” I hear him chuckle into the pillow.  
I fill my lungs with him and drift.


	14. The Joy of the Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Utility Bills and Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love is the joy of the good,  
> The wonder of the wise,  
> The amazement of the Gods.  
> -Plato

We spend the weekend in a haze of sleep and sex and food. We read to each other, and listen to music. Elio makes soup, and walks around my house naked. I make sure to keep the heat blasting so he’s not tempted to cover up with a robe or anything. My utility bill is going to be astronomical but it is so worth it.  
Over lunch on Saturday, I get around to asking him about his romantic involvements during the last four and a half years, I feel like I have to know, get it out of the way. We are sitting at the counter in the kitchen.

“There was a girl from Rome who was visiting Crema, the summer after our summer. “ He smiles when he says this. “It was fun and light - we had a good time. By that time, Marzia and I had settled into a platonic friendship,” Elio continues. “The other major relationship was with a boy at Berklee in Boston. He was a brilliant, tortured, closeted musician. It didn’t end well, it was rife with drama and angst.“  
“What was the attraction?” I asked, really wanting to know why. 

“Well, he was a excellent musician, and I guess, I was attracted to all the intensity, it wasn’t that much of a physical thing. I was really invested in him seeing his own self-worth and sort of sacrificed my needs. He didn’t have the benefit of growing up the way I did. His self loathing was mystifying to me.  
He eventually dropped out of school. It’s kind of sad really. I heard he is living with his parents and not playing music at all. He broke my heart but not in a romantic way.”

“Elio, you are so compassionate and loving. You are such a good person. “ I rub my hand down his back, stroking him. “I see how someone not realizing their own value would break your heart.” Instead of me being jealous of his past it has made me fall deeper in love with him. How is this even possible?  
“How about you Oliver?” he asked. I was quick to reply, as I had nothing to hide. “I dated a graduate student last year, for a while, but when he wanted to get more serious I bailed. I think he is doing post doctorate work at Stamford. Before that, an Ithaca College professor but it was brief. No, not in the music school before you ask! “ Elio smiles. 

“I guess we should get tested huh?” he looks at me shyly. “Yes. Lets do that this week” I say caressing the side of his face with my thumb.  
Looking at him, I know this is it for me. Elio is my endgame. He is all I will ever want. I know this in the deepest part of me.  
The challenge I face is to let him come to the same conclusion about me, in his own time. I know he said that he would be with me “as long as I would have him” but I want to hear that he has the same certainty about me that I feel about him.  
Do I get to impose my expectations on the scope of his promise? I have a feeling I am being unfair. 

The next few weeks are busy, prepping end of term exams for me, and concerts and student recitals for Elio. We manage to see each other at least once or twice during the week and have the weekends together, always at my house. It is never enough for me. I can tell it is the same for Elio. He clings to me on Sunday nights. 

He still hasn’t brought up my request for him to move in. I wonder what it will take. Patience, Oliver, patience.  
I am glancing through The Ithaca Journal and I spot something in the classifieds that captures my eye. An estate sale in the Cayuga Heights area, near my friend Bruce’s house. Listed in the items for sale is an upright Steinway Studio piano. I don’t know jack shit about pianos but I do know the Steinway name. I call Bruce and ask him if he knows who lives at 522 Cayuga Heights road. He does. He says it belongs to an elderly man who retired from THERM as a mechanical engineer. Evidently, the guy held all sorts of patents and retired a very wealthy man. Bruce saw his children cleaning up his house and he knew there was a big garage sale planned for that Saturday. 

“I think they are putting him into an elder care facility.” Bruce said.  
“Do you know anything about Pianos?” I ask.  
“Nope, but my kid does. Want us to go by and scope it out?”  
“Yeah. I mean. I think they are selling a standup Steinway piano, and if it’s in good shape and they don’t want too much, I want to buy it. “  
“Oliver you are a man of many talents, poker, Ancient Greek philosophy, and the piano…who knew?”  
I laugh. “ Hey no, it’s for a friend but I just have a feeling that it is worth a lot of money and the kids probably just want to offload it, so before any ambitious Ithaca College Music students go up there, I want first crack.”  
“Oliver, I’ll tell you what, I gotta walk the dog anyway, lemme grab Shelby, and walk over there and see what’s what. If I buy it on the spot, you can pay me back with poker winnings.”  
“That would be amazing Bruce. Call me when you get home. Thank you.”  
I figure if I get this piano I better come clean with Elio. It would be so passive aggressive of me to just have it delivered and say ‘voila hi, here’s a piano that just sort of showed up in my living room’.  
I don’t really want to put any pressure on him. (I do, actually.) He showed me he is a person who needs time to process things; when he delayed calling me for 6 weeks. That whole scenario eventually worked in my favor, I need to remind myself to wait, Oliver wait.

Bruce calls about 45 minutes later. “Oliver, I have a Steinway Studio Upright Piano roped up in my wife’s van ready for delivery. Kid says it is worth 9k, got it for 500 bucks. I am bringing it over. “ “Oh Bruce. That’s great. Um. It’s going in the garage for now, let me get some tarps and stuff.” 

“Uh, no Oliver. A Steinway piano cannot go in the garage. Do you want me to keep it here until you do what you have to do? I am sure I can put it in the rec room.“  
“Oh Bruce man, I have imposed on you enough. Are you sure?”  
“No problem Oliver, consider it done. Just let me know when you want it brought over.“ “Thanks Bruce. I owe you one!.” I hang up feeling lucky. I glance around the living room and see the perfect place for piano against the far wall. I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly.  
Elio calls and he says he’ll come over later, catching a ride with a friend who lives close by. He is conducting the Holiday Concert this year and they just added some more rehearsals. I can tell he loves it. When he speaks about conducting, he lights up. All of that music transcribing he used to do has served him well. His charts are amazing. He is a natural.  
He and I have decided to stay in Ithaca for the Thanksgiving Holiday. It will be so quiet here, 80% of the population clears out of town. I usually go to my parents or friends, but this year, I want to cocoon myself with Elio. Luckily he wants the same thing. 

I hear him come in the front door around 10pm. He sticks his head in my study and grins. I get up and kiss his cold pink nose. “Hey” I help him remove his coat and briskly rub my hands up and down his arms, warming him up. My heart still does a leap in my chest when I see him, I can barely contain it. These past 6 weeks have gone so quickly. It’s a bit frightening.  
“Hey Oliver” Elio says clearing his throat, “I got something from my Dad today in the mail, and well, I guess I have to spoil your Christmas surprise." “What?“ I ask, confusion evident on my face. “My folks sent us two round trip tickets to Milan, so we could spend the holidays with them in Crema next month.”  
“Are you kidding Elio? No way!! That is amazing. Oh my God.”  
“I know,” he says shaking his gorgeous deep brown curls. “I can’t believe it. To be back there for Hanukah and Christmas with you…it will be wonderful.”

“That is some present. I’m blown away”

“Well it’s a little selfish on their part, they really miss me, and they really want to see you again, so they do have their own motivation.”  
“That’s not selfish Elio, that’s love,” I say kissing him. 

“There is one thing though,” he says looking up at me a bit apprehensively. “I told my landlord that I wouldn’t be returning to the apartment in the New Year. So before we leave for Italy we will have to pack me up and move me.”  
“Oh Elio” I sigh into his neck. “You have made me so happy.” I hug him tightly. 

He initiates a passionate kiss that makes my stomach swoop and steals my breath. 

“I appreciate the time and space you gave me to make the decision." I cut him off before he says his customary “Thank you for….whatever it is, he is always thanking me for. “You don’t have to thank me Elio. I love you. That’s what people who love you do, they let you be you, without conditions and expectations. You don’t have to thank me.”

“I want you to know how grateful I am, and that I don’t take any of this for granted.” 

“This” is I ask? Tilting my head, and smiling. “This” Elio says, ”your generosity, your understanding, your love. I am so grateful, every day, for all of it. I feel like literally my dreams have come true. ”

I hold him tightly in my arms. And whisper in his hair, “Mine too Elio.”


	15. Fields of Gold

It’s Friday, midday, the start of my weekend. I am so motivated to make Elio comfortable here. I have decided that the front bedroom will be his space. I go downtown to Rothchilds Department store and pick out a really nice sofa that pulls out to a queen bed. They can deliver it next week. The room still needs to function as a guest room if our folks visit or friends come up.  
I bring cartons of unwanted novels to the library resale shop. I toss out countless boxes of undergraduate paperwork, high school ephemera and out of date clothes. It feels so cathartic; to shed all this unwanted stuff. There’s a metaphor here, I am too happy to look for it.  
The room looks so big, lined with bookshelves, a built in desk, and now, lots of places for him to put his stuff and make it his own. Maybe he’ll bring back some of his posters from his room at the villa in Crema, or perhaps he’ll want a fresh start. It will be interesting to see what he chooses.  
I call Bruce. “Hey man, bring the piano over whenever you have time.”  
“Cool, tomorrow afternoon is pretty open for me. I need Shelby to help me, I’ll be over at 2ish, is that good?  
“Yup, sounds good.”  
Hey Oliver, does this piano have anything to do with why you’ve been so cheerful for the past month or so?”  
“Actually it does Bruce. My boyfriend Elio is moving in, and the piano is his Hanukah present.“  
“ Woah, wow Oliver. Congratulations, I mean moving in with someone, it must be pretty serious.” “It is” I say, curious if Bruce is going to ask me a ton of questions. “I hope he’s around when I bring over the piano, we could use the help. Does he play poker?” I bust out laughing, imagining Elio who wears every emotion on his face, playing poker. “No, he doesn’t but I know he’d like all of the guys, maybe I’ll bring him one Tuesday night.  
“Yes, that would be great! Ok see you tomorrow afternoon.” 

Bruce is pretty cool. I guess being a shrink, you’ve heard some wild stuff, having a poker buddy casually come out to you after 3 years doesn’t even phase you.  
I am still feeling energetic and motivated, so I go down to the cellar and find two unopened cans of Swiss coffee eggshell paint and a package of new brushes. The whole house was painted when I bought it, but another coat in Elio’s room would make it look that much better. I throw on some old clothes, pop a tape in my boom box and lose myself in the zen of painting.  
By the time I finish, it’s 11 pm. I’m starving, but the room looks great. I heat up some soup and look at how much I have accomplished. 

I know Elio is not coming over tonight. He’ll be rehearsing until late and the buses stop at 11. Next year, I think, I’ll teach him how to drive, and find him a car.  
I ‘m exhausted and fall asleep on the couch downstairs. 

I wake to kisses peppering my face, my neck, my chest, and the delicious smell of coffee.  
“Good morning Sleepyhead” Elio says grinning at me. I must be a mess, couch seams on my face, morning breath, the whole attractive package. Elio doesn’t seem to mind as he hugs me and continues to assault me with sweet kisses. “Once sec babe, let me just go upstairs, pee, brush my teeth, I’ll be right back.” He follows me up the stairs and stops at the doorway of the front room. “Wow. This looks amazing. What are you going to do in here Oliver?” I call from the bathroom, hang on Elio, I’ll be right there.” I come out of the bathroom and he is walking around the front room, peering in the closet. “This is your space to do with what you will. I just want you to have a place you can spread out, keep your stuff, get away from me, whatever you need to do. I ordered a pull out couch for guests, it should be here next week. “

“Oliver this is excellent. Are you sure? I mean, I can’t see wanting to ‘get away’ from you, but having an area just for me and my things is great. When I really get into my work I can be a little messy. “  
“Um Yeah, and I don’t want to hassle you or interfere with your creative process” a smirk plays on my lips but of course, he doesn’t miss a trick and goes to wrestle me.  
“Not before coffee Elio, no manhandling before coffee!” We race down to the kitchen, squeezing next to each other down the staircase, like the two adolescents we really are.  
“What music are you conducting for the Holiday concert? I ask Elio while greedily sipping the rich coffee he brewed. “You know I didn’t pick all the pieces, everything is done by committee but I think it is a good selection overall; Christmas Oratorio by Bach, Mozart’s Sleigh Ride from the Three German Dances, of course “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, and Jessel’s Parade of the Wooden soldiers. Then there is an intermission and one of the other conducting students will take over, with 6 more short pieces. You only have to come for the first part!" He tilts his head at me and gives me that heart crushing smile. “Whatever you want Elio, it’s worth it just to see you in a tux.” “Oh Shit” he says “I better get on that huh?”  
“Uh yes. When is the concert?”  
“A week from Thursday.”  
I realize we have so much to do before we take off for Italy. This week is study week, no classes. But I have to maintain my office hours in case students want to come in and make excuses for late papers, non- attendance, or any other violations. Only a full professor for 4 years and already I am jaded and cynical.  
The following week is finals week and then Elio and I leave for Italy for 3 blessed weeks. 

“When are we going to move you, my love?” I ask pouring myself another cup of coffee.  
“I actually have some good news on that front, one of the other students in my composition seminar has a friend returning from a semester abroad and he is desperate for a place to live. He is going to take over the lease and keep all of my furniture and stuff. Basically I just have to pack up my clothes, my music, my tv, and I am out of there!”  
“Does he know about ‘the staircase of death’?”  
“Yes full disclosure, he didn’t seem concerned. My landlord was really grateful, so that worked out.“  
“Yes it certainly did. I think I am the grateful one though.” I stand up and stretch, my muscles feeling a bit sore and cramped. “Elio, I am gonna go up and take a shower, remind me to not fall asleep on the couch again.“ I stop in my room, strip, and head to the bathroom. 

The water is steamy and hot and feels so good on my back. I stretch and let the shower work its magic and get the kinks out. A cool breeze hits me as the shower curtain moves and Elio steps in. He is a young Kritios, the ideal; the definition of beauty. He smiles up at me, as the water soaks his hair and runs down his lithe alabaster body. I trace his lips and he opens his mouth and sucks in my index finger. I replace my finger with my tongue, tasting him, worshiping his mouth. 

Grabbing the soap, I lather his neck, trailing down his sinewy shoulders, and pushing my fingertips into the blades of his back. His muscles are taut, from hours of rehearsal and practice. I press down his spine, kneading his sides. The contrast of my large ungainly hands against his slender hips does something to me. The arousal threatens to pull me under. I soap the cleft of his ass, cupping him and pulling him close, probing and rubbing him. He groans. Caressing his balls, I run my hand down his cock feeling the silky skin covering his firmness. He ruts into my hand, a low “mmmm” escaping from his mouth. This delicious interlude is escalating quickly. He takes the soap and then cleans me reverently, replicating the ministrations I performed on him. I get lost in the gentle seduction. As Elio steps out, he hands me a towel and while we both dry ourselves off, we never lose eye contact. 

I throw my towel over his damp curls and vigorously rub his head, kissing him through the towel. “I want you. Now.” I say hoarsely, the need consuming me. Leaving the towels on the floor of the bathroom, I pull him down the hall to my bed. “Sit here on the edge Elio, I have to taste you.” I am between his legs, licking and kissing his gorgeous cock. Resolutely, with a firm tongue, and soft lips I lick his length and savor the salty essence. He curses and rocks instinctively toward the source of his pleasure, I surround him with my hot wet mouth and he grabs my hair. I love watching him fall apart but I pull off. “Hold on baby boy, I want you to come when I am inside you.” He whimpers. “Fuck yes jesus.” 

“Get on all fours, up on the bed, Elio, I want to have you this way.” He complies and I kiss the small of his back. I scatter light kisses all along his bottom, my tongue seeks the slit of his ass and I savor the velvet feel of his most intimate part. I feel his ardent whine reverberate in my chest. Pressing his rim with my lube soaked fingers I take my time opening him up. He is pressing back on my hand enthusiastically, trying to hurry it along. “God I want you so badly Oliver. Please, please.”  
“I don’t want to hurt you baby, hang on” as I stretch him a bit more. When I can’t hold back any more, I position myself and enter him gently, there is resistance but he accommodates me and I hear a sharp intake of breath. “Ok Elio?” I stutter out.  
“God.” A breath. “Yes.” 

“You are such a good boy, spread your legs for me…there….ung….do you like this?” I whisper in his ear as I slowly start to move.  
“ Goddam Oliver, uff.” He pushes back on my dick and the feeling is indescribable.  
As I shift inside him, I can tell I am hitting his sweet spot when he practically keens. He is so responsive and vocal that I am barely cognizant of the fact that I am driving into him with considerable force. I come in a sudden rush, filling him, pleasure coursing through me. I feel him drop, his elbows giving way, causing him to lie flat on his stomach. I cover him with my body, trying to prolong the connection. I curl around him, bring him to his side and find his rock hard cock. “Come for me baby boy, come on Elio,” I murmur into his neck, as I stroke him off. In an instant, he is crying out his orgasm. 

We lay there, joined in body and spirit. I have never known such happiness and contentment. 

No looming final days, no threat of either of us vanishing, I revel in the sureness of our love.  
We float in the nether space between wakefulness and sleep, soft touches and kisses, the best way to spend a weekend morning. 

Eventually I take a second shower with a decidedly less sensual outcome.  
I leave Elio sleeping in our bed. 

I go to town to grocery shop, drop off dry cleaning and pick up some sandwiches for lunch. What seemed like drudgery before, has taken on new delight. Simple chores now serve the purpose of nourishing our bond. It has never been like this for me. 

Before I even realize it, there is a knock at the front door; Bruce and his son are here with the piano. Assuming Elio is awake, I shout his name. He leaps down the stairs and does a running slide on the hardwood floors into the living room; both Bruce and his son Shelby laugh. “Oh I didn’t realize you had visitors, Oliver. I’m sorry.” “No no, it’s fine. Bruce, this is my boyfriend Elio, Elio this is my friend Bruce and his son Shelby.” Elio is still blushing from his entrance, but he pulls it together enough to shake both of their hands. “Nice to meet you both, sorry about my electric slide arrival.” 

I clear my throat a bit nervously “So just like you ruined my Christmas surprise, I am going to ruin your Hanukah surprise.”  
Elio looks at me, forehead creased in confusion. I got you something for Hanukah and I know it’s not till December 18, but well, we need your help bringing it into the living room so…” Now Elio is really puzzled. I wave for him to follow us as we go out to Bruce’s van where he slides the side door open. 

I wish I had thought to bring my camera. Elio’s smile is as wide as his face. He looks at me with shining eyes and just shakes his head. “Oh man. Seriously, You got an upright Steinway Studio piano? You are freaking kidding me. Oliver, holy shit.” “Well technically Bruce got it, but yeah. Do you like it? “It’s amazing. I mean, if I could just pick out the most perfect piano to practice on and have access to all the time, this would be it. Oliver, this is an amazing present.” 

Bruce brought a flat furniture dolly so once we lifted the piano out of the van, we were pretty easily able to move it to the house. Hoisting up the stairs to the porch was a bit of a challenge but the four of us did pretty well. We placed it in the space I had cleared and it just looked so right. Elio sits down and immediately starts in with Postillion’s Aria, the piece by Bach that he tortured me with when I first met him. Our eyes meet, and I know exactly what he is doing. 

Bruce and Shelby are entranced. When he finishes, they clap enthusiastically. I walk them out to the car, as Elio’s exquisite playing is audible from inside the house. “He seems great Oliver, I am very happy for you.” Bruce says with a warm smile. “We’ll settle up Tuesday ok?” “It’s a deal Bruce, I can’t thank you enough. Seriously. Thank you.” Shelby and Bruce pull out of the driveway and I return to the house. 

I stand next to the piano and watch Elio [play](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wS4H6FCSX28)

Will you stay with me, will you be my love among the fields of barley?  
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we lie in fields of gold  
See the west wind move like a lover so upon the fields of barley.  
Feel his body rise when you kiss his mouth among the fields of gold

I never made promises lightly and there have been some that I've broken  
But I swear in the days still left we'll walk in fields of gold  
We'll walk in fields of gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This has been so fun. Thank you for the wonderful feedback There is just an epilogue left. I really appreciate so many of you reading this. I do have a tumblr but no followers...just lots of gifs of cute boys kissing, and the house that Oliver and Elio eventually buy in Cayuga Heights. link to my tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/delongpaw)


	16. Bonus Chapter Elio's pov between chapters 7 and 9

Raw. Raw and exposed. I let out a shaky breath. I have been kissing Oliver for close to two hours. I am so hard its almost painful. My internal struggle is not with Oliver in this moment, (for a change.) It is with my higher principles. I have a lesson to give at 8:30 in the morning. It’s a push for me on a good day. After this prolonged makeout session, if I make it to the lesson, it will be a minor miracle. But I can’t fuck up. I have to make it. Tonight has been perfect. I did well in the recital. Knowing Oliver was there just pushed it that much more. And God. The way he looked, like a fantasy, all tweed and beige and blond. I couldn’t help myself.

Now, either I cut it off and salvage a decent nights sleep or we go to bed and fuck all night long and I blow off the piano lesson. That’s not an option. I am acting like such a cock tease but I gotta do this….”Oliver, “Oliver, I don’t want this to end, really I don’t, but it’s midnight. I have to be up at campus at 8:30 tomorrow. I’m so sorry.“

He gives me a look like I killed his dog. Oh my god. He stands up and rearranges his pants. No hiding what we do to each other. Does he hate me…I hate me. I am such a bush league player when it comes to him. Maybe he will not want to see me after this. I think I’ve blown my one shot with him. Ugh. He hugs me, (hugs me!!!) and whispers in my ear to sleep well.

Oh man. I have definitely blown it. I am so fucked. I hear him clatter down the staircase and take off. I get ready for bed, but of course sleep is elusive. I lie there, wondering what I could have done differently. I just can’t be irresponsible, and cancel the lesson. That is something I would never do. I start second guessing choosing Ithaca College, contacting Oliver, everything. At this rate, I should have had Oliver stay because sleep is not happening. I should wash my sheets, I should make my bed, I should I should I should.

 

I must have fallen asleep because it appears I have woken up. My reflection startles me when I look in the bathroom mirror. My chin and my cheeks are red and raw, a souvenir, something to remember Oliver by. I look really rough. I have some aloe vera gel so that helps a bit. Suck it up Elio. Get your ass to campus and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I slog through the day. Cover the two lessons I was scheduled to give, not my most inspiring teaching effort, but I was there. I work on my own pieces, but inspiration has taken a holiday. I pass the payphone in the hall and on a whim, I take the Rulloff’s card out of my pocket and dial Oliver’s number. I hear his outgoing message and the beep: I say “So beard burn is a real thing,” and hang up. If our reunion is destined to be short-lived then whatever I do or don’t do, doesn’t really matter… engage nihilist tendencies and commence firing.

I grab some dinner at the dining hall and walk home. Transcribing music has always been my go to when I needed a distraction. Boy do I need a distraction. I grab my Walkman and my staff paper and delve in, successfully quieting the harsh internal critic, at least for a while. I fall asleep on the couch and only wake up when I hear faint scratching at the door. I drag myself up and peer out. There is small white piece of paper folded over and stuck under the door. I think I hear the distinctive whine of Oliver’s Volvo driving away.

I open the door and grab the paper. **Can you have dinner Friday night? My house. 701 Mitchell Street. I don’t have your phone #! Call me!** He doesn’t have my phone number? How did that happen. Oh yeah. Way to play it cool Elio. Withhold the phone number, brilliant. God I am so bad at this. Did I miss the pages in the Life manual: How to get and keep a boyfriend. But he wants to see me again. That’s good. That’s really good.

I shower and catch the bus up to campus ready to take on the day. Wednesday’s schedule is short but good, a composition seminar and a conducting workshop, days like this are why I am here, I adore this. I am done with classes at 3. On impulse I go to the library and ask the front desk person if they have a detailed street map of Ithaca. She shows me where they keep the city directory, a bound series of street maps and property divisions within the city. I look up Oliver’s address. It’s a pretty detailed map and I can see that if I leave via the back entrance of campus and cross Hudson street, continue on Columbia street, there is a pedestrian bridge over a gorge that will lead me directly to Oliver’s house. I have nothing to do, I might as well take a walk I convincingly tell myself.

 

It is an amazing walk. The gorge is astounding. Narrow but very deep. A small water stream runs at the bottom, it could be as much as a quarter of a mile down. There are high sided fences on both sides of the walkway to discourage “gorging out” the Ithaca final exit, taken by far too many pressured students over the years. I walk up the hill toward Oliver’s house. The neighborhood is a mix of single family homes and multi unit student housing. I come to his address. It’s nice, with a porch in the front. The lawn is a bit overgrown, it looks slightly neglected, but not derelict. The sun is landing directly on his stoop and I decide to wait and see if he shows up. I don’t have his schedule memorized but I do know when his classes are and unless something changed I think he might be done for the day. I have no idea if what I am doing is the right thing, but I’m tired of dicking around.


	17. Bonus Chapter Elio's pov Chapters 2 and 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio goes to see Oliver after 5 years

Of course the day I pick to go see Oliver is the hottest fucking day of the year. It is humid as Hades here. Just brutal. I have been here in Ithaca now for a week. The music faculty at Ithaca College is first rate, and they genuinely seem happy to have me here. There is something to be said for being wanted somewhere. 

Can I just say that Professor Perlman is a master at covert coercion? He mentioned Ithaca’s music school over the course of the last three years numerous times. Just planting seeds like a stealth ninja.  
I knew Oliver was at Cornell but I didn’t connect the dots until I came up here in the Spring to see the school. By that time, they had offered me an unbeatable financial fellowship.

And so here I am, in Oliver land. 

 

I have planned this all out. I don’t feel like I can leave anything to chance. I took the bus up to Cornell ahead of time, went to the registrar’s office, got a schedule and saw which classes Oliver was teaching, the location and the times. I’ve mapped out where his classroom is, and what time the lecture will wrap up. I didn’t take into consideration showing up looking and smelling like a sweating muskrat however. 

 

I am really, really nervous. It has been 5 years. Every possible mutation of how seeing him could play out has run through my brain. He’s gained 100 pounds and looks like a Botero painting, he doesn’t remember me, and I have to try and explain who I am, or, he is red swimsuit Oliver - condescending and dismissive. All of them would be devastating. 

What the fuck am I trying to prove by showing up? The only answer I come up with is, I can’t not show up. I am compelled to see him again. 

This whole experience is akin to ripping a bandage off –it’s going to hurt, it is just a matter of degree, based on how much of the wound has healed. I don’t really know. I’d like to think that I am completely over him. I mean I have had some relationships since; one was healthy, one was decidedly not. The butterflies in my tummy indicate more than I would like.

 

I get off the Ithaca transit bus right in front of the gates to Cornell. Checking my watch I am a bit early for the end of his class, but I am banking on some good a/c to cool down a bit. 

I should have worn Billowy. That would have added just the right tragic note to this whole pathetic opera. 

I locate his classroom building and thankfully it is air conditioned. I find the men’s room, wash my face and dry my wet curls with some paper towels. I have 10 minutes to cool down and will myself to composure. 

Students are milling in the hallway so I go look for Room 254. I hear Oliver’s voice over the classroom buzz, instructing people to grab a copy of the syllabus before they leave. My heart stutters. Deep breath and I enter the room. Oh man, he looks just as good as he did 5 years ago. Fuck. Better maybe. 

I walk slowly down the incline; he looks up at me and his face registers disbelief. I can’t tell if he is upset or alarmed, but he recognizes me. I guess that’s good. 

I wait for him to nod or acknowledge me in some way. He smiles and shakes his head. He reaches out to shake my hand. Fuck that. I go in for the full Elio hug. Oh God he smells so good. I melt a little bit. I say something inane about him looking the same and how glad I am. Oh for Christ’s sake shut up Elio. 

It gets a tad awkward, but at least I am not getting Red Bathing suit Oliver, that would have felt like death. Damn my Dad for not warning him that I might be here. He must be in total shock right now. 

He asks if we can grab some lunch and I agree. He wants “to talk.” Ack. That makes me very uneasy. Yeah, we can talk, as long as you don’t say anything I don’t want to hear.  
When he says he just wants to catch up, I can’t help but smile.

We sit in the cool dark pub, I take a deep breath, this is going better than I expected.

And without warning, Oliver launches into best friend tour guide mode. How could he be so oblivious? He has no fucking clue how devastated I was when he left. 

Then he attempts to justify his leaving. I can’t deal. I feel tears spring to my eyes. God I am such a fucking baby. 

I get up and go to the bathroom. Command myself not to cry. I pull it together. Wash my hands and slide back into the booth.  
That cold beer looks really good right now. I take a deep gulp. 

Might as well rip that bandage off so I ask him to go ahead and ‘get into it.’ And he does. God he does. And it almost looks like he is going to cry this time. Regret is all over his face. My imperturbable Greek god looks broken. 

I am being a bit relentless, I have a lot of residual anger and hurt, it leaks out at the most inopportune times, but maybe this is the most appropriate time. I bring up the broken engagement wondering if I had anything to do with it. What an odd thought. It literally has never crossed my mind before. 

And then the asshole tries to steal my French fries. Not cool. 

I ask him why he never got in touch and here’s the saddest thing ; he doesn’t really have a reason. That breaks my heart.

I want to race out of there and go up to my broiling attic apartment and cry my eyes out. 

He asks if I want a lift home, I don’t know if I can sit in a car with him and not lose it. The option of waiting for the bus in the heat isn’t very appealing either. I let him drive me home. He gives me his number to call him, but right now, I feel like I never want to see him again. I know it’s mean, but all I can say is “later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this was very interesting to write for three reasons. You guys as readers already know what has transpired, so the challenge is not to repeat dialogue and events to the point of boredom. The other interesting thing is how both Oliver and Elio are unreliable narrators of their own stories. And the third thing is, how each of us, to some degree, probably do exactly what Elio does, and that is project all of your fear and insecurity onto the thoughts of the other person. There is a lesson here, I will let you know when I figure it out.  
> Thank you for continuing to read this. I have a feeling I am just putting off writing the epilogue as I don't want to say goodbye to these two.   
> Would love to know your thoughts.....


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday June 27, 2015
> 
> (Elio is 48 and Oliver is 55)

I am waiting at the airport terminal in Syracuse, New York. Elio is returning from yet another sold out tour. He has managed to sustain a rock star level classical performing career, sort of a modern miracle in this day and age. That quality I saw so many years ago in his first faculty showcase has blossomed into full-fledged stardom. The fans that usually wait for him by the stage door range from giggling adolescent girls to serious piano students and everything in between. He is always gracious and charming. It took a while for him to develop his public persona, he gave away too much of himself in the beginning, but he has found a balance now.  
I still absolutely hate it when he leaves. It takes a few days for the ache to dissipate. You would think after 26 years (!) together it would be easy. It is not. He says it is difficult for him too. He wakes up in a strange city in an empty cold bed and all he can think about is coming home to me. 

Recognition for Elio started within the first year we were together. He started winning piano competitions, first regionally, and then all around the US. We timed our European travel to coincide with some of the contests in Europe and his winning streak got the notice of a very well known booking agent. The clincher was the Van Cliburn Competition, which propelled his career into the stratosphere. He stopped pursuing conducting, but continues to compose both orchestral pieces and scores for operas and films. It’s funny, when producers want to work with him, they let him stay in Ithaca and only require him to come to London or Los Angeles to record the final product, which he does get to conduct. To say that I am proud of him is a vast understatement. His success is the global recognition of what I knew when I first met him; that is he is a singular and extraordinary person. Not one day goes by when I don’t think about how fortunate I am. 

His achievements have greatly diminished the plaguing inner doubts he carried with him for the first few years we were together. He still has moments though, when he needs to be reassured about his composing work or his performance of a particularly demanding piece. 

One thing he has no doubts about now, is us. If I did anything right in this relationship it was getting some counseling. I had some really good help from an associate of Bruce’s. The idea of a therapist always scared the crap out of me, it felt like once Pandora’s box was opened, there were be no end to the shit that came out. However, when Bruce said to me, “Doesn’t Elio deserve the best Oliver possible?” something shifted, and I realized that therapy wasn’t just about me recreating and reliving old perceived hurts, but was more about getting past that and getting a toolbox that allowed me to stay aware and present and authentic. It’s not always been easy, both Elio and I are complicated ego-driven men. The golden cord has always been there though, anchoring us through turbulent waters. 

My time at Cornell has been really good. That too, has had ups and downs. I got passed over as Department Chair, which pissed me off to no end. But, I was granted two sabbaticals which allowed me to do field research and accompany Elio on extensive European Tours. One of my books has been adopted as a mainstream text in the field of Classical Philosophy and has provided an unexpected source of income and demand at academic conferences. 

We moved out of my little cottage after ten years when Elio found the equivalent of a [European Villa in Cayuga Heights,](http://52unforgettable-houses-ithaca-ny.tumblr.com/post/138292433212/52-unforgettable-houses-week-forty-eight#notes%20) a mile or so from Bruce’s home. It is our paradise. 

Today I have decorated the house with a few celebratory rainbow flags in honor of the Supreme Court ruling on same sex marriage. Elio and I had a commitment ceremony 20 years ago, but the idea of a marriage recognized by the state is what we all have wanted forever.  
I see Elio come out of the gate and my heart bounces a bit, his grin lighting up his still boyish face. A full body hug and quick kisses hint of a more passionate reunion later when we get home. 

I think I will ask him to marry me. A proposal at Taughannock Falls sounds like the perfect thing to me. 

 

*****************Elio**********************

There are a few rainbow flags hung here at the Syracuse Hancock “International” (sort of) Airport. Good for them. Upstate New York still surprises me; a bastion of conservative homophobic small town thinking, sporadically interrupted by open-minded liberalism. Ithaca is the big exception. Thank God for our freethinking Brigadoon nestled in the hills.  
Ithaca and all of her natural glory is in my blood now. Anywhere Oliver is constitutes home, but as a community, Ithaca is as good as it gets. 

I am home for the summer. No more touring, no more schlepping to the coast to score, at least for a while. 

I see Oliver waiting by the baggage carousel. My heart automatically speeds up when I spot him.  
He’s still got it, the fucker. Dark blond hair now streaked with white at the side burns. His monthly 10k races keep him lean and in shape. God I just love him, 25+ years of him putting up with my frequent diva behavior is nothing short of a miracle. He doesn’t see it that way but I do. He is the rock that I sail back to again and again. 

My father (of blessed memory) knew in some preternatural way that our lives were destined for each other. Later, much later than 1989, he confessed to having finagled the confluence of my graduate school and fellowship and Oliver’s upstate NY refuge. I miss my dad everyday. 

A lingering hug, some cursory kisses, and we wait to gather my numerous bags to load up in the car. 

The rings I bought Oliver and I in Florence are burning a metaphorical hole in my pocket. Do I get on one knee and do the whole cheesy proposal or do I casually mention it when the subject of the ruling comes up?  
I think a walk to the falls and the full romantic one knee deal is the ticket. I can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a joy to write. Thank you for all of your comments and kudos. If you want to further communicate, feel free to find me at tumblr - just look for delongpaw or if you are tumblr impaired I can be contacted at viviandelongpaw at g mail you know the rest. Thank you again.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters, they are the intellectual property of André Aciman and I am merely spending some time with them and giving them some choices.


End file.
